


Metal Monsters

by white_cross_b



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-19
Updated: 2010-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_cross_b/pseuds/white_cross_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smile came automatically to Fuji's face -- after all, he had mastered the art of concealment -- but it was getting harder every day to look at Tezuka and smile, knowing that he'd soon be leaving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metal Monsters

When he was little, Fuji thought of the ball machine as a monster. He would stand on the court before it, his tiny frame so small against the enormous metal beast, his racket held high as the machine spat out ball after ball with a hiss and a pop. He would swing as hard as he could, returning each ball with a loud thwack as it connected with the racket‘s strings, until the machine was empty and he had defeated the monster, thus saving the world from certain destruction. If he was strong enough and able to slay this particular beast, he might also be able to slay anything else that came along and might want to hurt him or his younger brother, Yuuta. It was an effective visual aid, and as Fuji grew, so did his game. He beat one opponent after another, gaining trophy after trophy.

As Fuji got older he no longer thought of the ball machine as a monster, but instead as an ally that could take him places he’d never been before and make him even better at his game.

At first it was all about swinging and hitting, then it became about creativity. Where once he had simply been concerned with being able to hit the ball, he soon began to be interested in _how_ he could return the ball, and one by one he created and perfected his triple counters. Before Nationals Fuji had gone even further by adding not just one additional ball machine, but two, much to the dismay of the employees of the tennis club where Fuji belonged. It was here that he practiced his moves in private, away from his fellow team members. Remembering his childhood fantasies of slaying the metal monster, he pictured all three machines as the three-headed beast Ghidorah from the Godzilla movies he used to watch as a kid, and his list of counters grew.

But now Nationals was behind him, as was most of his third year, and he was back to one ball machine as he tried to think of new ways to evolve his game. He’d be graduating soon and entering high school, where once again he’d be a first year, starting over at the bottom of a new tennis club. Everything would be different. Taka-san would no longer be part of the club and would be devoting his time to his father’s restaurant, Oishi would be devoting his spare time outside of the classroom to study toward his future admission into medical school, and Tezuka … well, Tezuka would be going for good, leaving Fuji, Eiji, and Inui to build their own team once the reins were finally handed down to them by their upperclassmen. But before then they would go from Nationals champions to picking up balls for their senpai. The thought made Fuji feel oddly disgruntled. It surprised him that he actually wanted to play, and if Yamato were captain as he had been in Fuji’s first year of middle school, he might just get the opportunity. If he worked for it. If he wanted it badly enough.

And so he hit ball after ball, hour after hour, his legs weak and his arms shaking as he came up with one new counter after another. The “sleeping lion,” the “dolphin tail,” the “circling hawk …” He was going to have to start naming them after zodiac animals if he kept up this pace. He finally took a break, wiping the sweat from his hands and face and taking a long drink from his water bottle before he noticed the figure watching him from the far side of the fence. The club coach had walked away long before, shaking his head in exasperation at Fuji’s stubborn will to keep playing past exhaustion, and now standing where he had once been was Tezuka.

As close as they had been over the past few years, Tezuka had never once visited Fuji’s club to watch him practice.

The smile came automatically to Fuji’s face -- after all, he had mastered the art of concealment -- but it was getting harder every day to look at Tezuka and smile, knowing that he’d soon be leaving. “Tezuka,” he said with a slight nod and Tezuka responded by opening the gate and walking to where Fuji was standing. “Were you waiting long? I’m sorry I didn’t notice you there,” Fuji said. He wondered why Tezuka was there at all.

Tezuka tilted his head, studying Fuji for several moments as if waiting for some reaction, and then suddenly Fuji found himself pushed up against the fence, Tezuka’s mouth pressed against his own. It took a few seconds for Fuji’s brain to catch up before he was kissing Tezuka back, opening his mouth instinctively for their tongues to come together wetly as his heart hammered in his chest and the wire fence dug into his back. Tezuka’s mouth was warm, with a light taste of pineapple, and when Fuji breathed in the faint smell of cologne through his nose, he pulled back chuckling, licking at his own lips.

“Niou.”

Tezuka’s form shimmered and then it really was Niou, looking down at him with a smirk. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Pineapple Ponta,” Fuji replied, smiling, “and the cologne.”

Niou shook his head, his long bangs hanging down into his face and partially obscuring his eyes. “Well, it was worth trying,” he said grinning. “I had you fooled you for a minute.”

“Mmm,” Fuji said, nodding, “But why? You’re not interested.” It wasn’t a question really, but a statement. Everyone knew about established doubles partners. You only had to take one look at Oishi and Eiji to know they were getting in some team bonding of their own after club hours, not to mention Hyotei’s Shishido and Ootori, and Fudomine’s Ishida and Sakurai, to name a few.

“The fun’s in the game,” Niou said, cocking his head and smirking.

Fuji just smiled.

Niou’s smirk twitched nervously. “Fine. I wanted to know what it was like to kiss a guy. One who was really into me, you know? Whatever. Doesn’t matter.” He looked down at the ground, avoiding Fuji’s eyes.

It occurred to Fuji then that Niou hadn’t played doubles in the finals or the semi-finals of Nationals. Yagyuu had played with someone else, and Niou had played Fuji alone in singles two. Not that that necessarily meant anything when the lineups were at the whims of their captains or coaches, but still, there might have been something to it.

Niou looked back at Fuji, brows knitted togther, considering him. “You’re not mad. Why?”

Fuji shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe I want to know what it’s like, too. Just once.”

Surprised, Niou nodded, then grinned mischievously. “Want to play a game?” he asked.

Niou could have been asking anything -- for a match, or something else. He was known as the trickster of Rikkai, after all.

Fuji didn’t need to think twice. “Of course,” he said.

Niou threw back his head and laughed.


End file.
